


love letters

by sparkybee



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Tsukishima Kei is Bad at Feelings, im getting a feel for writing tsukishima, im trying, it's self indulgent anyway so thats okay, someone give these bitches a hug, theyre so repressed, this is horribly cliche im so sorry, this might suck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28599186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkybee/pseuds/sparkybee
Summary: Tsukishima's never been good at talking about his feelings.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	love letters

_To: misodashi03@gmail.com  
From: tsukishimak@gmail.com  
[No subject]  
Body:_

_Yamaguchi,_

_You don’t make me want to vomit._

Okay. Obviously not that.

_Dear Yamaguchi,_

_I have jacked off to the thought of you more times than I can count._

Absolutely not.

_Dear Yamaguchi…_

Kei stares at his computer screen, watching the cursor blink in front of him. He sighs and sits back, pushing his glasses up so he can rub his burning eyes. His computer chair creaks beneath him as he moves, and he’s reminded of just how long he’s been there in the first place. He’s bound to have been there for hours, judging by the way his joints ache from being still for so long. He flicks his left hand out to check his watch, and…

He’s only been there for twenty minutes.

Fuck.

He groans loudly, ignoring the way it echoes through the apartment, and sits back up. He needs to write this letter. He doesn’t really know _why_ he needs to, because so far it’s been a bigger pain in his ass than it has been helpful, but his therapist told him that doing it is going to be good for him, and he’s not one to argue with a new solution to crippling heartache.

He cracks his knuckles, then his neck, winces at the loud noises from both, and gets back to typing.

_Dear Yamaguchi,_  
Okay, good start, Kei. Don’t make it worse this time.

_You’re the only person that I can trust with my true self._

Not too bad, Kei thinks. Maybe he’s finally gaining some traction.

_You’ve never failed to make me feel safe. You’re always here to tell me that you care, and that you’re not going to leave me. Words can’t express how grateful I am to have you in my life at all, let alone have the privilege of calling you my best and closest friend._

That’s the issue: _friend._ Kei almost cringes at the word, but continues on.

_You’re always honest with me. That’s one of my favorite things about you. But it’s time for me to come clean, because I haven’t been giving you that same respect. In fact, I’ve been hiding something very important from you for a very long time._

Here’s the important part of it; the part where Kei bares his soul. His throat tightens. He wants to quit. He wants to close his computer and never look at it again. He wants to curl up and hide from this; from everything, and sleep until he’s gone comatose and decomposes or is miraculously preserved in amber for millions of years. He can’t do that, though. That’s what he’s always done; hid from things. He runs away when things get scary, never leaving himself any room to learn how to be better. He’s been stagnant for years. That’s why he’s writing this letter; to yank himself out of the cryogenesis he’s forced his heart and soul into. 

_To put it in plain terms, I’m in love with you. But I don’t think that phrasing really does it justice._

_You make me unbelievably happy. You make me feel like the only person in the world. I’ve never felt stupid or small because of you. You’re unbelievably patient and endlessly kind. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m sure that whatever higher power out there that shoved you into my life mixed up and gave me someone much better than was intended. For some reason, you stick around, even when I’m a massive asshole and try to push you away or make you feel awful. And you never hesitate to tell me that you think I’m a good person anyway._

_You’re all I think about. I know we spend so much time together, but I still find myself imagining what you feel like. What you taste like. I live for the moments where I’m allowed to touch you. I know you’d let me anyway, but I refuse to; not because I’m averse to touching you, but because I’m terrified I’ll never let go._

_So let this be the defining statement, I guess. I don’t know when I’ll have the courage to say this to you in person, if at all. I know you’d never hate me if I told you, but that doesn’t mean you won’t find me disgusting. Leave it to my depraved self to fall for the one person that shows me kindness. If you do ever read this, I need you to know that it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. You always push down your own feelings when you want to make me happy, and I don’t want you to do that. Your feelings are more important than mine. You don’t even need to acknowledge this. If you never want to look at me again, that’s fine, too. I don’t know what would have moved me to send this to you, but it must have been awfully stupid. You don’t deserve me fucking up our friendship again._

_To conclude, I’ve kept my feelings for you locked away for a long time. Maybe this can be the key if I ever work up the courage to send it._

_Yours,_

_Tsukishima Kei_

He stands immediately, wrenching his hands away from the keyboard as if he’d jammed them on an oven door and didn’t have the survival instinct to yank them away until that very moment. He swallows hard, collecting himself, and clenches his fists a few times to ground his mind and bring it back to the present moment. The second he believes he’s good enough to leave his room, he slinks away in the hopes of distracting himself from the act he’s just committed. He stalks to the kitchen and looks for something to eat mindlessly. He hates eating, but he knows he has to, and that it might serve as a deterrent from thinking of the one thing he hates _more._ But with his luck, just as he sits himself down with a bowl of fried rice, of course his brother barrels into the room like a bull in a china shop.

“Hey, little bro!” His cheerful voice rings through the previously empty room. Kei is reminded of how lonely he usually is, but he’d almost prefer it to the interaction soon to follow.

“Ugh,” he responds, taking a pointed bite of his rice in a silent _fuck off._ Akiteru either misses the hint or chooses to ignore it, because he plops himself down next to Kei with a disgustingly bright grin. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve been home! How are things?” He nudges his arm. Oh God, this boy had better not ask if Kei has a partner yet, because the younger boy is already seconds away from decking him and that question is a surefire way to push him over the edge.

He swallows his rice, “The usual. It’s always the same.” He’s being purposefully bland; hopefully, if the conversation is uninteresting enough, Akiteru will leave him alone.

Once again, his brother ignores the obvious cue. “You should spice it up! There’s gotta be something that you can do to make your life more interesting.” He waggles his eyebrows, and Kei gives him a look that screams _don’t you fucking dare._

“Oh, by the way,” Akiteru says, obviously suddenly remembering something, “you left the light on in your room, so I went in there to turn it off for you, but you also had this email open on your computer, so I went ahead and sent that for you as well.” He smiles, obviously proud of himself for being such a fantastic big brother, but Kei’s heart drops to his feet.

“Akiteru!” He cries, jumping up so quickly that his knees almost buckle underneath him. He almost drops his rice, but luckily he has the good sense to set it on the table before he dashes to his room. Akiteru is undoubtedly remaining exactly where Kei left him dumbfounded, but Kei can’t find it in himself to care. God, what an _idiot._

He lets out a long, loud string of curses and slams his door behind him. He practically falls into his computer chair as he begins to search through his email, hoping to find _some_ way he can delete what he’s written before Yamaguchi sees it. He barely makes it to his “Sent” folder before a glaring red notification pops up and makes his stomach drop even further.

_To: tsukishimak@gmail.com  
From: misodashi03@gmail.com  
Re: [No Subject]  
Body:_

_Dear Tsukki…_

**Author's Note:**

> haha gottem


End file.
